


Shrapnel

by peaceloveandjocularity, stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26161138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/pseuds/peaceloveandjocularity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Charles is unintentionally hurtful and has to try to fix things.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Kudos: 11





	Shrapnel

Working just 3.4 miles from the front, Charles Emerson Winchester III had seen the effects of explosives and incendiary weapons. He feared that he would dream about those effects, burned and bloodied flesh sloughing off under his hands, for the rest of his life. He had never had occasion to  _ cause _ those effects before however - and he knew just what he’d done even as the words left his mouth. 

He looked stricken as the sound of his voice died away. “I didn’t mean it,” he said quickly. 

Klinger’s generous mouth wasn’t quivering, but Charles knew just how controlled the younger man could be. A sufferer of blinding migraines, Klinger had managed to keep them secret from all but two members of the 4077th, including the CO. 

Klinger gripped the edge of the table for a second before straightening the implements on it unnecessarily. At last, he looked up. “You’d be surprised, Major, just how often no one  _ means _ the stuff they say to me. Funny thing, though, when you say that, you just mean it didn’t mean anything to  _ you _ , same as I don’t. Still hurts like hell on my end. Goodnight, sir.” 

***

The next day, Klinger appeared in fatigues and Charles’ teeth hurt at the sight of it. When he could speak privately to the man, he insisted, “ I  _ really _ didn’t mean it.” 

Klinger’s head was bowed. “I know. Just felt like a fatigues kinda day.” That he knew to mention his clothing at all told Charles that he definitely hadn’t forgotten his rash words. 

But this new trend - Klinger in masculine gear, did not abate. Klinger’s sudden rejection of earrings and lip tint weighed on the man who had unintentionally gotten him out of his skirts, seemingly for good. Hawkeye had told him what had occurred when Potter had taken command and ordered Klinger into proper garb. He knew Max had to be suffering. But he couldn’t get Klinger to change his mind. 

Worried for his clerk, Potter, himself, purchased material for Klinger, hoping it would perk him up. Klinger was grateful, but he didn’t tuck into his sewing as Potter had expected. Everyone else noticed how depressed Klinger was and how Charles was falling all over himself to be near the sad, young man. Naturally, they began to scold the surgeon, even though they didn’t even know just what he’d done wrong. Charles sighed; everyone at the 4077th was always so willing to believe the worst of him. That it was, in this case, true, did not help matters. 

That night in the Swamp, Pierce and Hunnicutt took up the same old song again, eager to discover just what Charles had done wrong. 

“No one else in this camp has ever misspoke!?” he cried when they started back in. Then without meaning to, he declared, “I apologized immediately. I have been trying to find ways to make it right and nothing is working.” 

“You’ve been hard on the kid since you got here, Charles,” said BJ. “I get that you can’t stand him, but just leave him alone.”

“How dare you!? I love him!”   


Immediate silence fell over the Swamp. 

“Also,” Charles went on after a moment in a small, abashed voice, “I’ve heard Pierce say much crueler things to him.” 

Hunnicutt very much ignored him to ask, “What do you mean, Charles?”

“You know what love is!” the agonized aristocrat snapped. “I’ve seen how you look at Pierce. You are simply  _ better _ at it.” 

BJ blushed; Hawkeye looked like he might dissolve into glitter and a gin-flavored mist. 

“You couldn’t have aimed this confession at  _ Klinger _ !?” Hawk demanded. “And  _ what the hell _ , Beej!?” 

“This isn’t about me!!” BJ protested. 

Charles ignored them both. “This is all because of a miscommunication. I said something offhanded, quite sarcastically I thought, and Max took it at face value. I have  _ tried _ apologizing but nothing has worked.” 

“Maybe quit talking,” BJ offered, not without an edge. 

“He barely can,” Hawk offered. “His foot’s in his mouth so often.” Then he offered Charles a smile (he liked intel - even if it came at BJ’s expense… maybe  _ especially _ if it did). “Move your toes, Chaz - you’re gonna need your lips for other stuff.” 

Charles rolled his eyes. “Pierce, your one track mind knows no bounds, does it?”

“None. But you’re not doing great on your own so maybe try it my way.” 

“And what would you suggest, Dr. Love? Walk up to Klinger and molest him? No, thank you. I want the man’s forgiveness.”

Hawk gave him a look that said that he knew Charles’ desires didn’t precisely stop at mere making up.

Seeing Charles struggle, BJ decided to throw him a lifeline. “I say you start doing small things for him. Help with paperwork, reorganize his dresses. Things like that. And don't say anything about them. Do it out of the goodness of your heart. He’ll kiss you himself eventually.” 

Hawk looked  _ very happy  _ about this. 

Charles ignored the kinetic energy radiating from the Maine native (who believed that he, too, would be kissed before the night was out) to say, genuinely, feelingly, (he was often at odds with BJ), “Thank you, Hunnicutt. May I ask why you believe such a thing?” 

“If he didn't like you, your sarcasm wouldn't have hurt so much, would it? Your opinion must matter to him.” 

“Don’t lay it on too thick, Beej,” Hawk cautioned. “Frank used to make Klinger cry all the time.”

The Californian scowled at him. “Frank was a rat. Hardly human.” 

Hawk gestured at their tentmate. 

“Stop that!” BJ snapped. 

Charles looked stricken, humbled. “I-is he wrong?” 

“Go get your Corporal, Charles,” BJ told him (words only half motivated by a sudden desire for privacy; he and Hawkeye needed to talk.) 

Charles stepped out of the tent then poked his head back in. “I am sorry, Hunnicutt. I did think it obvious.” 

BJ halfheartedly threw a shoe at him; Hawkeye gave him a happy finger wave. 

***

Klinger was not to be found in his tent. But his little, wooden sewing box was open, contents spilling out in colorful chaos. Taking BJ’s advice to heart, Charles sank down to sit cross-legged on the floor. Long, clever fingers separated and ordered needles and pins, lined them up by size, turning them all the right way. Then he began to order the spools of thread. 

When he looked up, Klinger was glaring at him. “I know you don't respect me, Major. You could at least respect my privacy.”

Charles gaped; even out of his feminine costume, Klinger was so very pretty. Cowed by the anger in his dark eyes, Charles whispered, “I just wanted to do something nice.” 

Klinger knelt to survey his work; it wasn’t bad. 

Charles indicated a spool, fingers shaking. “Is this color papaya?”

“Nectarine, you idiot.” 

Blushing and going pale, Charles rose and stumbled out of the tent. 

***

His next attempt was a sampler. Klinger wasn’t the only man in camp who was good with a needle. Charles filled the sampler with surgical stitches to give Max something new to try. He left it with fabrics for Max to try them on. 

But this olive branch was not received with grace. Instead, Klinger dragged him to the generator shed - the best place incamp to have a shouting match, Charles knew, without being overheard. 

“You told me that dresses were my problem,” Klinger said, hands on his hips. “Are you making fun of me or what?” 

“I'm trying to  _ apologize! _ You seem to be determined to make me grovel. I am doing so!!  _ I don't grovel, Max. _ ” 

“I don’t want you to do anything. Just leave me alone like you made it so clear I’m supposed to be.” 

Charles ground his teeth. “I want you  _ single _ so that if and when I get the guts to finally ask you to be mine, you will be available to say yes, you stubborn brat!” 

“Do all of your proclamations of love end in insults?” 

“Having never previously  _ made any _ , I do not know!” 

“Nice try, Major. Leave me alone.” 

“Nice try!?” Charles cried. “You think I am  _ lying _ !?”

“I've been the butt end of a lot of insults over here, but I think yours hurt the worst. I know how you like to be the best, sir, so maybe you’ll like that. Now leave me alone.” 

Charles did as he asked. The next thing he knew, Radar was telling him that Klinger had asked to be transferred out. After hours in surgery, Charles showered and went to Klinger’s tent. Head bowed, he carefully began to pack Max’s creations. He even brought tissue paper to place between the folds. 

Klinger came back to find him hard at work. 

“Why are you always in my stuff, Major!? Get out!”

The proud, tall creature turned to face him. There were tears in his eyes. “I thought that since you were leaving us, I might assist you. It is, after all, my fault that you are going. One last chance for an apology I suppose.”

He finished folding the dress in his hands and departed. Sighing, Klinger began to unfold and hang them all (Potter had denied his request). As he worked, he saw the care the surgeon had taken. He remembered the tears in his eyes. Cursing, he left off cleaning and went to find the idiot.  **_My_ ** _ idiot?  _

The Swamp was empty except for Charles sitting at his desk, staring away into nothing. 

“I think I’m ready to hear your apology, Charles.” 

_ Darling…  _ “I don’t want to say something wrong again,” Charles admitted, sounding very little like the proud professional he was. 

“I won't be quite so harsh with you this time. I promise.” 

Standing, Charles made his way over to the pretty Corporal, only to shock him by going to his knees. “I am sorry, Max. Truly. I… I was trying to joke but I saw how it hurt you.” 

Klinger sank down beside him to touch his shoulder. He meant to convey forgiveness, but Charles only trembled and placed his head in his lap. “I should not have to miss you when you are right here,” he whispered. 

“You don’t. Potter wouldn’t transfer me out.” 

“You misunderstood. I  _ already _ miss you. I can’t reach you. Every time I try I just push you farther away.” 

Klinger touched his hair. “You could probably argue this is the closest you've gotten to anyone in Korea,” he teased, smile in his voice. 

Charles looked up to confirm that Max was - for reasons he neither knew nor understood - apparently no longer quite so angry with him. He wiped away a tear. “How sad is that?” 

Klinger brushed a tear away that the surgeon had missed. “You might want to try and work on your sense of humor,” he counseled. “Yours is a little dry… and your sarcasm, if that’s what you meant it to be, has too much edge.” 

“ _ If _ !? You still don’t trust me?” He barely registered Klinger retrieving the monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and drying his cheeks with it. 

Klinger’s voice got very soft. “You've said a lot of things, Major. I think your apologies have been sincere this whole time. I was just too mad to listen. But you did hurt me.”  _ I was trying to be beautiful for  _ **_you_ ** _ , after all.  _

“Max if you only think and do not know... if I was enough to drive you from here... I should go.” He tried to stand and was hauled, instead, into an inelegant but enthusiastic kiss. 

Hurting worse at the tender gesture than he had at knowing he’d been the force that had gotten Klinger out of dresses (and very much  _ not  _ in the way he had been longing to), Charles shook his head. “It is not necessary, Max. We seem to have missed our moment. You deserve better anyway.” 

Klinger held up his naked wrist to look at a nonexistent watch. “I think we could have a moment in five minutes if you wanna come to my tent.” 

“What about the irrefutable fact that you deserve better?” 

“I'm stuck in Korea fighting for a country that doesn't like me - of course I deserve better. Which is why I'm taking you and we're going back to my tent. You’ve heard of door prizes, right? You can be my war prize.” 

Charles didn’t register this Pierce-ian show of wit. “I am  _ better _ ? You are choosing me?!?” 

“Don’t you want me to? Isn’t that what you were after with all the little favors?” 

Charles’ features were helpless. “I just wanted your forgiveness.” 

Klinger froze, stared. “You reorganized ninety-six colors of thread to be  _ nice _ !?”

“If I wanted to be nice, I would have reorganized supply. I wanted you to  _ stop hurting. _ Pain in your eyes… especially pain that  _ I  _ caused… is torture too great for even this place. I love you, you idiot.” 

Klinger chuckled. “You’re awful at this.” 

Charles sighed. “Teach me?” 

Klinger realized what he was asking.  _ Teach you how to love?  _

He thought about how old Charles was, how long he’d probably been alone. 

_ Oh no.  _

_ You  _ **_are_ ** _ terrible at this… but it’s because the only love you’ve ever gotten is from a sibling who… oh Charles!  _

“I mislike the look of pity on your face, Max.” 

“Oh, baby, that’s not what it is. It’s… I shoulda maybe been a little easier with you is all. C’mon.” 

Charles registered nothing; the casual endearment replayed in his mind:  _ babybabybabybabybabybaby.  _

Klinger led him by the hand; in the background, Hawk and BJ wolf whistled but Charles didn’t hear. 

“Where are we going, Max?” 

“I'm going to show you what love is, stupid.” (He may as well use language the man would understand - at least at first.) 

“ _ Please _ ,” Charles said without realizing he was speaking at all. 

“No need to beg yet, darling. not tonight, anyway.” 

No one had  _ ever  _ called Charles “darling.” He liked it. 

“While you were packing, didja you see anything you maybe wanted to see  _ me _ in?”

“I just packed, I promise!” 

“Yeah but that blush was so worth it.” He got up on his toes to kiss the Major. “I don’t mind you storing up a little material for your fantasies. You shoulda gone double or nothing and taken a souvenir - I would have.” 

“Max… I am afraid. The last thing I ever want is to hurt you.” 

“You won’t. I’m going to help you.” He led him to one corner of the tent that was screened off with beautiful fabric scraps. 

“What is this?”

“A hideaway. It helps sometimes- not to hafta look at dog tags or my rifle or whatever.” He snuggled in close, reached up to stroke down the side of Winchester’s face, over his mouth. “I always thought you’d be great at kissing. Wanna prove me right?” 

Charles didn’t join their lips, but selected a place just behind and below his ear. Starting there, making positively needy little sounds, he kissed down the line of his jaw and up his chin until Klinger grew impatient and flung himself into his arms and demanded attention for his neglected mouth. 

“I wish you’d kissed me,” Klinger sounded more breathless than he thought he should. “After you said what you did. I woulda calmed down a lot quicker.” 

“I hope I rarely have future occasion to apologize to you, but I shall always remember to do so with kisses, Max.” 

“You really tore me up, you know. You coulda at least stuck around and fixed me.” 

Charles took his hand and kissed it. “I know. At the time, I thought of… of shrapnel.”  _ The way it skitters and dances… the way the wounds hide… the wellsprings of blood that spill over.  _

_ Oh.  _ He heard it in the doctor’s voice; he hadn’t been the only one hurting. “I guess I’m real lucky then.”

_ I brought pain into your pretty face.  _ “How do you figure?” 

“I’ve seen you in OR. You’re great at picking out fragments. I’m sure after a coupla nights with you, I’ll be good as new.” 

End! 

  
  
  
  



End file.
